An Unpleasant Holiday
by Wupperpool
Summary: Lisa is dragged along to a holiday at a distant friend of Bart's. Will she enjoy it anyway? / Lisa Simpson/Kyle Broflovski, OneShot, potential multi-chapter story.


**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Simpsons or South Park characters. If I did, they'd be... never mind...**

Hello, everybody. I haven't posted something in ages, so yay to myself. Anyway... I had started this story months ago in some boring free period at school. It's an experiment, bascially, although I do believe that this is the best pairing to ever exist everywhere. =D It's written from Lisa's POV, in present tense, except for the flashback at the beginning, which is actually an outline of the stuff I wrote in that free period, and I felt it would belong into here. To fully understand the story, it's beneficial to be familiar with both shows, as there are a couple references to them in it. Anyway, **enjoy :)**

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><p><strong><span>An Unpleasent Holiday - Chapter One<span>**

_"I don't want to go there!" I protested, reacting to my mother informing me of our three-day-holiday location._

_"Can't we go to Los Angeles or... or San Francisco? Some place more interesting?" I continued to argue, not letting my mother respond._

_"Co__me on, Lisa, it'll be wonderful!" my cheerful mother replied finally, not letting me make her angry. "If you want to see a city, Denver is not far away and besides that, there's so much untouched nature there, you love nature," my mum tried to interest me in the geographical features of South Park, Colorado._

_I just snorted at her attempt, though, and crossed my arms, determinedly encountering my mother's gaze, "Tell me, what's there to do? And how'd you even get the idea? I checked on Google Maps, it's like... in the middle of nowhere."_

_My mum's eye brows rose, "Well, you know the time Bart ran away to California? He found a little buddy, Kyle, there, and... ask your brother. He says, he wants to visit him, though, so why shouldn't we do what he wants for once, as nobody else has any real ideas for a holiday?"_

_"Mum! I just suggested several!" I argued again, somewhat outraged at her ignorance._

_"That's enough, Lisa, our minds are made up. You can choose next time, I promise."_

_"Ugh!" I groaned and stomped off. "Right..."_

_On the way up to my room I also had to endure a triumphant grin on my brother's face, and I stopped to argue with him, "You'll regret this, Bart, the only exciting thing there is snow. That's all."_

_"And, my dear sister, prank-hungry mountain folk, it'll be a lot of fun for me. A lot. And if I get in trouble, Kyle's dad's a lawyer," he retorted contemptuously, yet his irritatingly content smile growing in size. How satisfying for him to see me unhappy._

_"How did you even find a friend from Colorado in California?" I tried to disturb his mood, the best I could, not really caring where he finds his little Milhouses._

_"He... Family Guy stuff, I don't remember anymore. Anyway, this shall be my perfect holiday, and there's nothing you can do to screw that up. Nothing."_

_Walking away, he was shaking his stupid butt at me, trying to get me angrier. But thinking of what Gandhi would have done, I decided not to run after him and kick it. And if there was nothing I could do, I wasn't so sure, either. Ideas to sabotage his plans crawling through my mind already, I reminded myself of Gandhi yet again, and decided to cool down my anger-struck, irrational mind by playing my saxophone. It helped, like it always did. The chilling tunes of blues music cooling down my temper and helping to cope with the injustice I was victimized by for the seemingly billionth time._

Nevertheless, now, five days later, we're sitting in the car, driving towards the Rocky Mountains. It's hot and I'm unnerved by Bart's antics. But now, for some reason, just now, while Bart is throwing paper pellets at me, I start to at least find – let alone search – positive things about our upcoming holiday. My mum was right, nature _is_ dear to me, and so is snow, being a little girl after all, but still, I would prefer to go to a city, where there's museums and theaters, anything would- "Bart, stop it!" – "I knew I'd get you! You've now earned yourself two more hours of merciless pelleting, dear sister" – "Stop it, Bart, leave Lisa alone." – "Listen to your mother, boy... Ooh, a steak house, can we go, Marge?" – "No! We've wasted enough time in Albuquerque, we have to arrive sometime. Besides, we have already eaten." – "Awwww, but that's unfair, the name's so funny, I couldn't resist. Albuquerque, Albuquerque, hehehe."

Ugh! My family is such a pain, such a horrible pain. Anyway, anything cultural would make this holiday more interesting. I'm sick of always seeing the museums in Springfield, I love them, but... maybe Denver is not so bad. Maybe.

Still, this car ride is developing into a very negative start for our vacation, because of Bart's ability to annoy me, even though I'm trying to ignore him. I can't concentrate on reading the book I brought along, I can't play my sax, I can't do anything else that's even remotely fun for me. The only activity I can pursue is to sullenly stare out of the window and appeal to my geography knowledge – since when is Albuquerque, New Mexico en route from Springfield to South Park?

Hours later, at 8:30 pm Mountain Standard Time, we're finally passing by the snowed in city limit sign of South Park, Colorado.

"Finally, we're here!" Bart exclaims, sounding relieved, after having annoyed everybody with several 'When are we there?'-inquiries. Even Maggie seems happy, although she's the only one that doesn't seem like she's going to murder someone soon. Being a baby has its advantages.

Watching the small houses along the road fly by, I notice that few people are out at this time, probably because it's rather cold.

"Now, which number was the house?" my mum asks Bart with a smile, turning her head to look at him in the back seat, as my father turns into the right street. I shift my glance from the window to my dear brother to observe the answer I expected. "Dunno."

"Bart, you said you noted-

"1002," I quickly chirp in, saving the bored atmosphere from unnecessary distress. "Bart left the note at home, but I remember."

"Thank god," my dad says, relieved. "I need a beer... do they have beer in the Rockies?" I roll my eyes, a knowing smile spreading on my lips and don't answer.

"Huh?" I hear, and look in the rear view mirror to see my dad's tense eyes looking at me in search for a satisfying answer.

"Sure, sure..." I say hastily, calming him down. My dad takes things seriously... I should know.

Seconds later, we pull over in front of a green house bearing the ciphers '1002' in vertical order. I look at it with interest, it seems to be a bit bigger than the others, not much, but a bit. True, Bart did speak of a lawyer living here.

"Let's get out of here," my dad exclaims exasperatedly. "I'm not driving another mile without alcohol!"

So the Simpsons family is exiting the car and walking up to the green house's front door unitedly. It is cold, and I briefly wonder, why it was so damned warm in the car, but then I'm just enjoying the brief exposure to the fresh air. My mum rings the doorbell and shortly after, we are greeted by a middle-aged man wearing a kippah. Jews, woo! I might learn something here after all.

"Hello, you must be the Simpsons. I'm Gerald Broflovski," he introduces himself, a gentle smile on his face. He's shaking both of my parents' hands. "...and this is my wife Sheila."

"It's nice to meet you," Sheila greets, after having arrived to stand next to her husband. A rather corpulent red-haired woman. Definitely dyed, though. Definitely.

"Come on in," they invite us in and I'm looking around a neat living-room and spot two other characters of the household. One boy around mine and Bart's age and one small child, probably two or three years of age.

"These are Kyle and Ike," Sheila introduces them, standing behind them and proudly placing one hand on each of their heads.

"Hello," they say in unison, and come closer to greet me and Bart. "Hey, dude," Kyle says a little shyly to my brother. He seems nice by first impression, and... oddly, not at all like my brother.

"I'm Kyle." I flinch, spotting the boy suddenly standing in front of me. Odd, I didn't see him move. I... hehe...

"Hi, nice to meet you, I'm Lisa," I manage to pull myself together from my short irritating silliness and answer him, smiling nicely. I see my brother looking at me suspiciously from the corner of my eye, but file that as an unimportant side note in the back of my mind. Kyle doesn't seem to look suspiciously, he's just smiling his smile. And... it's not a Milhouse-smile.

Suddenly Kyle's mother pulls me out of my second daze today. Oh dear. "I prepared some dinner, I just have to cook it up quickly, it'll be ready in about twenty minutes. Gerald and Kyle, you two can show our guests their rooms."

And so Kyle's dad is leaving with my parents and Maggie, while Kyle is about to lead me and my redundant brother to his room. While he leads our way, I can't help but... letting... my... eyes... wander... down... to... "We have to sleep in one room... sorry for that," Kyle suddenly says, looking at me. I notice that we're in his room already. That... Oh, third daze, yes. "My mum told me that your mum said it would be alright. Is it?"

Before I can respond, my darling brother interrupts, "Oh, it'll be just perfect, just-"

"Don't you dare do something to me while I'm asleep, Bart, I will kill you where you stand!" I lose my temper a little too quickly, probably partly because I don't like to be embarrassed in front of a person I just recently met. Generally speaking, of course. Kyle is smiling warmly, though, and says, "I'll go get your luggage."

And while Kyle is walking off, and I am about to (subconsciously) watch his behind- uhm, I mean, _him_ leave, my brother interrupts my fourth daze of the day and puts his hand on my shoulder.

I turn to meet his sly gaze, "Sister..." he begins, trying to look stern, but I hate to also spot a bit of amusement in his features. "I see what's happening here, you're falling for my friend Kyle. Stop that, okay? He's my friend, I don't want him to get your cooties, like Milhouse."

Huh? "Bart, I'm not falling for anybody, leave me alone! Now and later in sleep, too," I deny his outraging accusation with a harsh answer and quickly divert his attention back to the matter of doing things to me in my sleep. It's working. Oh, what a simple-minded brother I have. And a stupid one, too.

A few minutes later, Kyle comes back to see me standing awkwardly in the room... and my brother messing up _his_ bed. He frowns, probably wondering what he got himself into, but then he smiles at me. He. Smiles. At. Me. I don't care, though. Not at all. Nope.

"Here are your bags," he says, "and Bart, your bed is over _there_." He walks over to two mattresses lying on the floor in the corner of the room which I haven't even noticed before, setting down Bart's bag. I'm noticing a slightly annoyed undertone in his voice and grin, knowingly. He probably starts to realize what he got himself into.

"And, Lisa, you sleep in my bed," he says and sets my bags down next to his bed. Oh god, he gives up his bed for me. Don't faint, Lisa, not-

"Hey, how come she gets the bed?" Bart chirps in. Stupid brother. But I'm in no danger of fainting anymore. Useful Brother. For now.

"Because she's a girl, and because she should get her own room anyway, but my stupid mum is being Jewish..." Kyle says, and I immediately admire his humorous use of a stereotype, while at the same time he seems to be proud of his belief, as the Albert Einstein poster in his room would at least suggest. Oh, and he has an open mind... and he gives me privileges and he understands my situation and he seems to have a growing dislike to my brother right from the start. And he looks so soft. Sooooft.

"Lisa?" Wha-?

"Lisa, you there?" Kyle says standing in front of me, looking at me with a mixture of light concern and amusement.

"Uhm, yes... yes, what is it?" and while I ask, the observant part of my brain belatedly informs the dreamy part that my brother has left the room in non-understanding half-anger. Yes.

"Nothing, you just seemed passed out," Kyle says, sitting down on the floor. Oh god, he noticed. Oh god, he's sitting down on the floor instead of his bed because he wants to keep it clean for me. Oh god, he has manners and... and... and... Is this a good time to faint?

"Well, dinner will be ready soon, I hope you like Jewish food, the names of it sound weird to Christians, well to all non-Jews, but it's good," I hear him say, and now I feel the need to say something to him for the first time.

"I'm not Christan anyway, I'm a Buddhist." Yeah, that's right, I don't follow everybody else, I'm not mainstream, I have my own mind, I can think for myself, oh god, he will think that I'm trying to say I'm better than him, oh god, he will hate me.

His face lights up in interest, though, "Oh, really? That's cool! You can tell me about that later if you want, okay? Mum said to be downstairs at nine."

Now, that's the perfect time to faint, he wants to know about my beliefs, he's so, so, so gah. Gah? Gah, gah is the right expression. It stands for... uhm... Ge... Genuinely admirable Hebrew. Hehehe, Lisa, you've done it again.

And so dinner time arrives and the Simpson family comes to enjoy a Kylefore-mentioned oddly named traditional Jewish dish.

"I never had kosher food... hey, this is not bad, I..." I hear my dad starting to go on about this and that. This being food and that being beer, which he thankfully gets here. But instead of listening to my dad's "relevant" opinion – him being a "highly-acclaimed" food-"critic" – I... reach my next daze, with my eyes glued on target number one... I-I mean, Kyle. I guess I have a _little_ crush... maybe. He with his green hat and orange coat, even wearing them at the table, although it's quite warm inside this house. Probably a habit of his, as it's mostly cold around here. He has a nice face, too, soft features, a cute button nose, intriguing green eyes. Oh dear, it's happening again. Not being an offspring of stupidity (only semi), I, of course, realize it... admitting it to oneself gets less embarrassing every single time, too. I _do_ have a crush and to be honest, not even a _little_ one. Also it took me about 15 minutes to develop it... good going, Lisa.

"Lisa, is something wrong, honey?" my mother suddenly asks, ripping me out of my, in this case, self-accusatory train of thought... why don't I think and daze in bed? Even my mother noticed now, being the third person already. Anyway, now I need an excuse, Kyle's looking at me, I need an excuse, or I'll look like an idiot in front of him. That can't happen, oh god, he's looking at me. Think, Lisa, think!

"Lisa?"

"Uhm, Ve- I'm Vegetarian, there's meat... in... here..." I find my universal excuse... to my dismay as I find out while speaking. Sadly, I notice there to be no meat on my plate. There's everything, just no fucking – hehe, excuse me – meat. Why does my mum have to be so damned overprotective and talkative that other people pick these things up? She's become a tediously efficient entity, telling people we visit what I don't eat, beforehand. My dad wouldn't even tell them afterwards!

"Hehe," I nervously giggle again. This must be getting on people's nerves by now. "Um, I'm not... feeling well, I'm sorry."

"Oh no, what-" my mum and Mrs. Broflovski try to inquire further, but I know better then that. "Don't worry, can I just go up to my room and lay down?" I ask, forcing my lips to form a smile, and looking at Ky- no, my mother. I am looking at my mother.

"Well, Lisa, we're guests here, so-"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Marge. Honey, if you're not feeling well, go upstairs and rest. After the long journey, that's more than understandable," Kyle's mother saves me, from my mum's wariness. She always wants to be the perfect guest.

"Thank you," I say curtly and quickly scamper upstairs, where I can finally rest... from this boy's presence. I don't even have to ask what's wrong with me, because I already know that _Kyle_ is wrong with me. I make my way into Kyle's room and lie down on his bed, which was probably not one of the best things to do, although it was technically my bed for the weekend. And what else was I going to lie on? The floor, the mattresses that were for the boys? God, why can't I have my own room? I hate it here, I wanna go home... and those _thoughts_ I have to think now as I quickly strip off my clothes and slip into my nightgown to go to sleep... Or so was the plan... Because now that I'm finally tucked into bed, enjoying a rare piece of privacy – warm and dry and seemingly content –, my thoughts don't revolve around bitchy complaints and silly rhetoric questions anymore, no. Now, I have to think of where I actually am and who is usually where I am now and that thought is keeping me from sleeping. This is, as I can see now, the worst crush I have ever had. I think. Well, maybe not. Oh, I don't know... Italian Milhouse was too Italian... that PETA guy... well, I forgot his name by now, so... ugh, this is not looking good for you, Lisa. Not good at all... uhm, maybe I should get a drink of water. Maybe. No, better not, somebody would see me, I don't feel like being seen, maybe I should just fall asleep. Yes, that's what I'll do. Just, free your mind, Lisa, I need to free my mind from everything, I will fall asleep, I will... fall... asleep...

"Hey, are you still awake?"

…

Uhm... "Kind of." To clarify, I didn't fall asleep in those five seconds between my last thought and the time that certain person asked that certain question, I was just... in a state of thinking about something that is not worth describing... and also I was madly staring up at the ceiling, which was probably the main problem, other than the fact that people hardly ever fall asleep in five seconds time.

"Are you feeling any better?"

I turn my head to the side in an almost mechanical fashion. I'm going crazy. "Yeah, a little," I manage to say.

"Well, you don't sound like it," the boy says worriedly – Authentic. Worry. – and he walks up to my, his, our, mine, his, gah bed. And while I fail to make up another meaning of 'gah', I feel something cold-ish, warm-ish on my forehead and make a surprised "huh"-sound.

"Well, you _are_ pretty hot, maybe you have a fever," hehehe, that's a reason to love a not properly working brain: you take things out of their obvious context.

"Wh-What did you say?" I ask, in a semi-dazed state of silliness, wariness and... blindness. Now, where might that come from?

"Oh, I-I'm sorry, you know what I mean... right?" he stutters then and catches me off-guard. So, he's human after all... oh, but that makes him so much more adorable. Wait... he called me... oh god, this is so weird. I muster a smile.

"Yes, I know," I say, smoothly... or so I think. I'm terrified of myself, I must look like Moe with this weird forced smile. I'm going insane.

Kyle looks down, his hand is still on my forehead... I think he's blushing.

I calm down slightly, "Uhm..."

"Oh, sorry," he notices his hand to still be where he put it and draws it back. "Well, anyway, you should sleep. Maybe you're fever will go away quickly if you rest, it doesn't feel like such a bad one."

This puzzles me, everything does at the moment. He was just blushing a second ago and now he's looking at me coolly, with his ice-melting smile and telling me the most caring thing I ever dream to here from a 9-year-old boy. I think I do need sleep, "I don't think I can sleep, though... my... head hurts."

And I immediately regret saying that.

"Oh no, uhm... should I get you some Aspirin?" he asks me, concern on his face. Despair on his face. I should just shut up, everything I say makes him say things that make me like him more. Shut up, Lisa! "No, no, it's fine... just stay here, okay?" D'oh!

Kyle's eyes light up slightly – they're pretty – and he crawls on his, mine, our, his... thing... someone's bed to sit beside me. I shift a bit to make room for him, and he sits on the covers in Indian style. We look at each other. He smiles.

"Well, care to tell me about your religion now?" his soft, a little high-pitched voice rips through the short-lived silence, beginning a conversation. He remembers.

"Sure," I start and engulf him into my religious believes. Also, I told him about my PETA activities, my saxophone and... my grades. No, I do not believe in a god-like figure, Buddha is no god. Yes, I'm really a Vegetarian. I play the sax, yes. Well... to be honest, elementary school bores me, I don't mean to be arrogant, just... it just is this way.

And like this, the next moments pass. We sit, I tell, he listens. And he seems interested... genuinely. So... he's also a gih.

"I wish I were as interesting as you are," he says after a while. I smile at him, not quite believing he's uninteresting, of course. But... for some reason I don't feel like asking, for some reason I don't feel like I need to know more about him right now. It feels good the way it is, I like being in the center of attention, I like telling him about me. Of course, I want to know about him as well, but... tomorrow. Yet I don't want to hurt him, so I ask, "Do you want to tell me about you? Only if you want, you don't need to, though."

Kyle understands. He understands. "You look tired, perhaps you should sleep." He understands.

"Perhaps," I repeat, smiling at him. "Can you stay, though? I don't think I can sleep by myself, it didn't work before." Oh, please, Lisa... that was cheap.

"Sure... uhm, how am I supposed to...?" he asks, puzzled by my request, obviously, and blushing. Probably, this was a little too straightforward by me, but I started it, so I'll finish it.

"Just, lie next to me, like... this," I say, pulling him down and positioning him next to me. Of course he's not under the covers, that would've been too much... especially because he would've been cooked, because everything's so hot for some reason. Phew. But I still rest my head on his chest, on the orange coat he is wearing – I'm not going to even ask why he's still wearing it... and his hat – and I relax a bit, feeling uneasy in a very secure way. My interesting and somewhat mysterious pillow-Kyle bearing my dizzy head... I don't even know his hair color yet. It's like I'm sleeping on a question mark... an incredibly soft question mark.

"Okay," he says, sounding content. I can't see his face now, but I can hear him breath. He's so smooth. I'm a mess... and suddenly so tired, everything's so blurry. I feel his hand in my hair. So soft and warm. I clench my arms around him. I close my eyes. I drift to sleep.

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><p><strong>Finally, it's over! Aren't you glad now =D If you like the story, please review. It's become longer than expected and I would, to be honest, even be content with it as it is, a OneShot. So, if you want more chapters, reviews are a way to pressure me into writing more. (And I totally didn't just pressure you into writing reviews... I'm German, I wouldn't do that.)<strong>

**Thanks for reading :)**


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